#AmericanWriters #Desire #InfatuationAndCrushes #Love #Metaphor #Relationships #RhymedStanza #Romantic#Love
267 Did we disobey Him? Just one time! Charged us to forget Him— But we couldn’t learn!
This is the land the sunset washes… These are the banks of the Yellow… Where it rose, or whither it rushe… These are the western mystery! Night after night her purple traff…
734 If He were living—dare I ask— And how if He be dead— And so around the Words I went— Of meeting them—afraid—
183 I’ve heard an Organ talk, sometim… In a Cathedral Aisle, And understood no word it said— Yet held my breath, the while—
XXVI THE brain within its groove Runs evenly and true; But let a splinter swerve, ’T were easier for you
916 His Feet are shod with Gauze— His Helmet, is of Gold, His Breast, a Single Onyx With Chrysophrase, inlaid.
482 We Cover Thee—Sweet Face— Not that We tire of Thee— But that Thyself fatigue of Us— Remember—as Thou go—
41 I robbed the Woods— The trusting Woods. The unsuspecting Trees Brought out their Burs and mosses
III SOUL, wilt thou toss again? By just such a hazard Hundreds have lost, indeed, But tens have won an all.
7 The feet of people walking home With gayer sandals go— The Crocus—til she rises The Vassal of the snow—
Part One: Life LI IT tossed and tossed,— A little brig I knew,— O’ertook by blast,
263 Is all that pins the Soul That stands for Deity, to Mine, Upon my side the Veil— Once witnessed of the Gauze—
60 Like her the Saints retire, In their Chapeaux of fire, Martial as she! Like her the Evenings steal
289 I know some lonely Houses off the… A Robber’d like the look of— Wooden barred, And Windows hanging low,
962 Midsummer, was it, when They died… A full, and perfect time— The Summer closed upon itself In Consummated Bloom—